


Raven Song: The Whole Story

by lighthouseglow



Series: The Tales That Really Matter [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Disorder, Banter, Bisexual Male Character, Canon Bisexual Character, Character Development, Character Study, Coming of Age, Demonic Possession, Depression, Diary/Journal, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Epic, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Fugitives, Gen, Hawke Sided with Mages, Implied/Referenced Terrorism, King Alistair, Let's Play, Male-Female Friendship, Married Couple, Moral Dilemmas, On the Run, Party Banter, Personal Canon, Phobias, Physical Disability, Post-Game(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Queen Cousland, Revenge, Templar Carver Hawke, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-20 17:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3659664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lighthouseglow/pseuds/lighthouseglow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>(Varric, if it falls on you and this journal to tell history our story, please tell them I overcame my initial prejudices against dwarves simply by you being so fantastic. It’s true.)</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Above All Low Delay

**Author's Note:**

> This is, again, a personal project like my Mass Effect fic; I figured it would be cool to see a journal from Lily Hawke's perspective as well. This is mostly to entertain me, but if it entertains you then that's cool as well. Any roughness comes from me trying to figure out the character as I go. As is standard for these journals, I'm playing the game in real time so everything you read is, at base level, my actual reactions to plot developments. Bioware gave me the space to develop in; I'm doing the rest.
> 
> Written, as usual, for the Anders in my life. One of these days I need to get him into Dragon Age...

…Oh, hell, forget the dates. I was always horrid with those. So many bloody calendars: the elven calendar, the Chantry calendar and I bet the dwarves have one too. Hello, I’m Lily Hawke, twenty-five years old and I’m bad at keeping journals. I also talk to myself a bit too much as I write things down. (Carver, my younger brother, loves to tell me to shut up—he’s giving me the death glare over his beer now, the icy Hawke stare. We’ve all got it to some degree or other, though my eyes are more green than blue. Nothing icy about green eyes, is there?) I’d love to be more intimidating than I am—I tend to crack sarcastic, witty remarks more often than not. Mother’s always after me to be more demure and ladylike, but I just don’t have it in me. Bethany was always her favorite; she and Carver took after Mother physically…

…And now it’s just Carver and I left. I know Mother blames me for Bethany’s death a year later, but is she really so foolish enough to think it was my fault? I may be the eldest but I could never convince Bethany to do anything, much less get out of the path of a rampaging ogre!

“You really should read this book, Bethany!” I used to say in my breathless, overexcited-about-books tone. “It’s about this knight a long time ago and he’s one of those Wardens with a griffin and he’s friends with an apostate mage named Alfred—”

“Not interested,” she’d say, studying some rune in a book, a _textbook_ , no escapism there. “I’m trying to perfect a spell, go away.”

“I hope you remember Father told us to practice in secret…”

“How dumb d’you think I am, Lily?! Of course I remember; go away and bother someone else.”

“Well, the only other person I can annoy is Carver…”

“Exactly, go bother him. Oh, and please act your age—sometimes I feel like the eldest in this family.”

Lothering seems like forever ago now, like someone else lived through all the sibling rivalry and squabbles. No idea what’s happened to it since we fled—there are rumors that it’s been decimated, torched by the archdemon and needs to be rebuilt… Those are just rumors, though. One of the king’s half-brothers is on the throne and his wife was the one who saved Ferelden—Grey Wardens both. Maker knows how they’re going to get an heir… Well, I suppose they could adopt. Not like there hasn’t been precedent for that in Ferelden’s history… Or, if worse comes to worse, they could put Teryn Fergus, Queen Lily’s brother, on the throne…but that’s none of my business, really. (Lily is a common, bread-and-butter sort of name in Ferelden—Father wasn’t exactly keen on unique names because we’re a family of apostates. Simple names for simple people.) I think it’s cool that a warrior queen managed to save the land _and_ command King Alistair’s forces at the same time…but she’s the daughter of Bryce Cousland and probably used to that sort of thing. Having power. Power that I don’t really have.

My year of indentured servitude is almost up—I can’t forgive our uncle for flinging Carver and I into it straight off the ship. I don’t even remember if he asked _Mother’s_ permission to begin with, but he’s always been one to run roughshod over Mum’s needs and wants. Fiddled with Grandfather’s will, from what evidence I could dig up in the family vault. Carver was slightly dubious when I told him he was named after a templar friend of Father’s. “Have we ever met a templar that isn’t a right prick?”

“So it suits you…at least some of the time,” I couldn’t help saying. “You know I’m only kidding.”

“Sister, one of these days that serpent’s tongue of yours is going to get you in a lot of trouble and I won’t be able to get you out of it.”

“Carver, relax. I know when to be good.”

“Doubtful.”

“Shut it.”

Bertrand won’t take us on the Deep Roads expedition until we’ve got the coin (all these bloody dwarves think about is money), so Carver and I have been wandering around Kirkwall doing odd jobs…if mercenary work counts as such. I rescued a very nice boy from slavery and sent him to the Dalish as a precaution; now, after one more drink, we have to break the news to his mother…

I rather like this mage healer we picked up, Anders; he fights for justice and had a pet cat until the king told him to kill it or something. Get rid of, not kill. King Alistair, from all the tales I’ve heard of him, is probably a cat lover himself… The queen has a mabari hound, they say—I want one, if we ever get a home of our own out here in the Free Marches.

Maybe in the next entry I’ll have the calendar figured out…

  



	2. Like A Bird On The Wing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Anders, _don’t_ start anything! Especially not on my behalf! I can take care of myself just fine!”
> 
> “Except for the spiders.”
> 
> “Yes, except for those.”

30 Drakonis

Last day of the month and we only have one more job left…or at least one more job until we’ve got the fifty sovereigns. Anders is right; Kirkwall does start to stink after a bit. We got fresh air, though, and went out to the Wounded Coast on a wild goose chase. It feels like years since I’ve seen the sea and hills and _so much green_!!! Father loved to walk everywhere for this reason; Mum, in the meanwhile, would be fretting about the templars catching up to us, though I personally think she overexaggerated at least a little bit. “Malcolm, if you don’t hurry, Malcolm, Malcolm…”

My range with regard to my ice powers is getting better, though my fire power is…embarrassing in battle. Fireball, while it may have saved our family in Lothering, isn’t up to par anymore and barely singes our enemies… You’d think the spiders would have all gone away with the darkspawn but ~~we’re~~ I am not that lucky. “Oh, can’t one of you do it?” I often find myself howling when a spider drops in out of nowhere across our path.

"All yours, big sister,” Carver is fond of saying smugly while I back away from the insect.

“You’re really—” A shot of ice spurts from Anders’s hand most of the time. “—Mean to your sister. A fear of spiders is perfectly valid.”

“Oh, how sweet, you two have the same phobia.”

“No, I just have…” A whoosh of fire across my face as Anders decimates the spider in question. “…Empathy. You could use some, fledgling.”

“Anders, _don’t_ start anything! Especially not on my behalf! I can take care of myself just fine!”

“Except for the spiders.”

“Yes, except for those.”

So the battle banter goes. You’d think we were always at each other’s throats, talking the way we do, but it’s mostly combat stress. Once we get ale in our stomachs and some warm biscuits and gravy at The Hanged Man we’re all civil enough to one another. I owed a witch a debt for saving our family, so that was what drew us out of the city in the first place. I still want to learn that dragon shapeshifting trick of hers; it appeals to the little girl in me who used to listen to Father tell stories at our fireside hearth. “I want to do something like that! It might be useful! Then the templars wouldn’t find us!” I remember saying a few times.

“Sweetheart, that takes an infinite amount of deep magic…and you really need to go to bed.”

“But I want to read!”

“And waste our candles?” Mother would interrupt. “By the Maker, no! Go find your sister!” She would always speak to Father in an undertone then, but my excellent hearing always picked it up. “She can’t be a little girl forever, Malcolm; when I was her age… If she were more practical like Bethany I’d have less to be concerned about.”

Sorry, remembering it all kind of hurts. I always felt like a raven in a family full of…well, hawks, if you’ll pardon the pun. My hair is an extremely dirty brown-blonde combination that isn’t exactly the height of court fashion; I wear it down and in an uncombed mess for practicality’s sake. As a child I had the fine blonde locks, but they darkened as I aged. Paranoid about my weight too and my face is too wide and this is just turning into a litany of stupid, girlish complaints. Hardly befitting a mercenary. Thoughts echo coldly in my mind: _You will never be as good as Bethany, you will never be Bethany, you will never be as good as your mother…_

…And it never stops, which is why I find myself writing this in the wee hours of the morning at The Hanged Man. Writing keeps the insecurity away, as long as I’m writing I can’t hear anything… Shit, Merrill just woke up, have to go…


	3. Down The Labyrinthine Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No man had ever gotten so close, much less kissed me like that so hungrily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Anders's confession of love was awesome. This is going to be excellent. I mean in the game; my writing skill is questionable, but I do love the witty banter and character development. The game provides it and I expand on what they give me. Also, I have to credit Daphne DuMaurier for introducing me to the poem that the chapter title is from.

1 Cloudreach

…Wow, haven’t touched this journal in three years. I guess it must’ve gotten misplaced when we moved out of the slums… Sorry, bit dazed at present. Anders…is excellent at making me melt. (Mum lives at the estate, she might run across this by accident, can’t go into details…) Oh, I was going to write about all that’s happened since I last wrote, but…Maker, Maker, thank you. The world is beautiful. Absolutely shot through with beauty.

…I really hope Merrill and Isabela didn’t see him kiss me. The clinic door isn’t exactly the best Kirkwall can buy…unfortunately. I love his passion for our cause—because it is our cause, Anders’s, mine, Bethany’s, Father’s… Father would side with Anders if he were alive, I know he would; he would be just as compassionate as I have been to Anders. That girl… What happened to her in the Gallows passageway—Anders nearly killing her--was an accident. Justice is not Anders. Anders is not Justice. I love Anders. (In theory, I love justice too, but the concept, not the spirit inhabiting my young man’s body. Strange, writing that, “my young man.” Never used the phrase before. )

“You know we’ll be hunted and hated, right?” I remember him asking… _into_ my neck, I think it was. No man had ever gotten so close, much less kissed me like that so hungrily.

“Lily, darling, how long are you going to be in there?” Isabela called. “If it’s more than five minutes I’m going to assume the healer is performing a physical examination of the patient.”

“She’s sick?” Merrill interrupted. _Yes, Merrill, I am very feverish, I am very ill…_

“Yes, Merrill, very sick.”

“Yes, yes, of course I know we’ll be hunted, but it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before. I’m stronger than I look and—one second, Anders.” I dashed out of the clinic. “Isabela, don’t use sarcasm with her! She’ll take it literally!” I hissed.

“Are we leaving yet? I wanted to go visit Fenris and maybe raid his wine cellar. Correction. We’re _going_ to raid it. You can play healer later.”

My face was on fire, annoyingly enough. “That’s none of your business!”

“Don’t pretend you were having deep conversations about mage rights in there!”

“As a matter of fact, we were!” Until, um, er, that happened. “And cats and whether or not the Darktown population has been consuming them.”

Isabela skeptically raised her eyebrows.

“I’m not joking! …Or drunk.”

“Hawke, dear, I know what a drunk person looks like. I also know what someone looks like when they’re really—”

“Don’t finish that sentence!” I yelled, poking my untidy head back into the clinic; even around the man I love I don’t give a shit about appearances. “Um, Anders…”

“Tonight; we have to be discreet.”

“Says the man who has apparently been obsessing about me every night for three years. Really? _Every_ night? You must get _so bored_ dreaming of me since all I do is curl up in the library and read…”

“Poetic conceit. Plus you like discretion. I still stand by what I said about you. All of it. You’re a natural leader, you’re beautiful—”

“And you need to get your eyes checked by an apothecary because that’s not true.” I was still dallying by the door and looking everywhere but at him. The cracks in the walls, the floor…

“Hawke! I’m seriously craving some of that wine Fenris has…” Isabela called pointedly.

“This’ll be a disaster. My family will hate you. Especially Carver.”

“Of course they’ll hate me, I’m pro-thought.”

To distract from my flushed face I cleared my throat and looked at the ceiling. “I can’t live without this either.”

“Some time before the good viscount dies of overwork, Hawke!” Isabela yelled into the room.

“Isabela, that’s already happening very slowly,” I retorted as I finally joined her and Merrill. “So, what kind of drinks does Fenris have exactly?”

I promise I will be sensible next time. Indulge me for five minutes, parchment.

P.S. Varric, if it falls on you and this journal to tell history our story, please tell them I overcame my initial prejudices against dwarves simply by you being so fantastic. It’s true.


	4. Through Air and Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric opened the journal to the entry in question. “That’s as far as she would disclose, lady. Hawke’s always been very reserved about romance; cut her a break. See? Her handwriting, no lies from the dwarf here. You want to read about all the times his staff and her staff did stuff in explicit detail? That’s not the Champion you’re seeking; Hawke doesn’t sing her conquests from the rooftops. What happened that night is between her and Anders.”

2 Cloudreach, 9:34 Dragon

Ha, see there! I got the date right! Carver would be so proud…or maybe he’d kick me for being twenty-eight and failing to head my entries correctly. He’s off with the templars now, which I think is madness considering we have mage blood on both sides of our family… Kirkwall is very different than Ferelden; I only heard rumors about Ferelden’s Chantry, but they’re positively lax toward their Tranquil in comparison to ours. In Ferelden, you don’t make a mage tranquil to silence their opinions! It’s akin to killing someone, something I do only when I have to do it.

Yes, last night was the realization of all my hopes and fantasies. (I don’t have very many of those.) I was nervous—by the Maker, was I nervous and it got late and I waited and waited and--he showed up right as I was planning to go to the library and read a book. We talked about rule-breaking and then I…lead him over to the bed. That’s what you do, right? “I didn’t think you’d come at all—Maker knows no one ever does—and I have no clue what I’m doing and I’m not a healer and I’ve never been kissed before today, but you’re really good at it. I think.”

“You’re funny, Lily.”

“I’m _not_ being funny! I’m scared out of my wits!”

“As scared as you are when spiders jump out at you?”

“Stop smirking, Anders! It’s not spiders now, it’s…butterflies!” I giggled. “Stupidly iridescent butterflies!”

“What color are they?” he asked and I was giddily aware of his hands rubbing softly at my back.

“Blue!” I said happily. “And…” Oh, whatever he was doing to my back was lovely. His fingers, just his fingers gently moving up and down that long scar when Carver had accidentally hit me with a knife when we were kids. “Silver. And grey, like the Wardens. And there’s a thunderstorm coming across the meadow where they’re at!”

“…That’s not a euphemism, is it?”

“Maker, no! If you’re going to say something, just say it and mean it! Not that difficult!”

“For some people it is.” He suddenly looked very serious and I felt like I’d said the wrong thing. Again. He was quiet, inhaling, exhaling and I felt my breath hitch as he moved for my neck and— “I’ve always thought of you as a falcon. A hawk.”

I sighed—I think I sighed or groaned—and tried to laugh. “Too obvious, try again. Although, the way Varric talks you’d think I was…keep doing that, please, yes…just as deadly.”

Anders was smirking again as he…uh…came up for air? Something? Whatever it was—maybe he was gently nipping at my ear by then, toying with my blonde-brown hair—he stopped doing it and I…I…didn’t want him to. “Well, that’s because you are.”

“Why did you stop?” I…whimpered. (This is so embarrassing.)

“I love the way you…you…get when I tease you, too. You’ve been driving me mad for three years and it’s time you got a taste of your own medicine.”

“Not on purpose,” I answered petulantly. “ _You_ were refusing me!” We were both awkwardly fumbling at my clothes by this point and I thanked the Maker I’d locked the door. I sat up for a moment and (hopefully) affected a melodramatic Anders pout. “‘Look at me, I’m Anders. I’m _dangerous_. Stay away from me, Hawke. My life is nothing but chaos. I have strong opinions; let me tell you all about them. Very loudly, very bitterly. Stay away! But I will lure you with my cat spell and then sweep you off your booted feet!’ Pause for dramatic effect! …Even though you, Lily, have a preference for dogs. Lionel won’t mind; he can sleep by the fireplace—he does that a lot, anyway. You need a cat.”

“You’d make a very good cat. Try hissing for me.”

“I might spit on you,” I said, kicking off my boots.

“I’m a healer, Lily. I see…everything. I have seen _everything_.” He was laughing; Anders…never laughs or is happy and it made me feel light, like when I do when I cast Cone of Cold or read an epic book or see a dragon up close.

“Oh, if you’ve seen everything you can get out of my bedchamber and bunk at The Blooming Rose! I can even pay for a room! Maker knows they’ll appreciate the business, but they’re doing splendidly… Like Fenris said, constant demand…”

“You’re horrid, Eyas,” he laughed, pulling me back off the left side of the bed. At least my boots were off. “That’s a baby hawk, y’know. “

“Have you _seen_ the size of my personal library, serah? I’m not an idiot.”

“Ah, but you thought you could—” He bent to trail kisses on my neck, whispering in between each one, “—Lock me up.” He paused to look at me, smiled and ran his index finger down my face. “No one can, my sweetheart, so that was an idiot’s decision.”

I gnawed his fingers. “Can’t blame a girl for trying, can you?” I sat up and flung my house finery to the floor, then kissed him with everything I had. “You make me _vicious_ , Anders, and I am not a vicious girl—“

“I beg to differ,” he said, pulling me into his lap. “How many demons did you make a deal with, exactly? Mm?”

“Just one and his name is…his name is…Imagination,” I sighed happily. “Kindness and Wit and Survival were there, but Imagination was…the one that drained me most. So of course I’m… _so exhausted_.”

“Eyas, you’re dealing with a healer; I know how to…refresh you.”

I dropped the act for one moment. “Y’know I’m only half-kidding, right?” I giggled. “About the demon thing?”

“Of course,” he laughed. “But I prefer it. It’s a huge turn-on.”

…With that said, I will leave this incident in the hands of the demon. All I will say was that it was perfect. For both of us, I think, and we’re broken, imperfect people.

~

“And then she and Blondie let their respective dragons loose,” Varric finished, smirking.

“That can’t be what she wrote!” Cassandra interrupted. “Show me in the journal!”

Varric opened the journal to the entry in question. “That’s as far as she would disclose, lady. Hawke’s always been very reserved about romance; cut her a break. See? Her handwriting, no lies from the dwarf here. You want to read about all the times his staff and her staff did stuff in explicit detail? That’s not the Champion you’re seeking; Hawke doesn’t sing her conquests from the rooftops. What happened that night is between her and Anders.”

“I will cut _your throat_ if you don’t finish the story! So, she fell in love with Anders and he fell in love with her? Mutual apostate mage _passion_?” She spit out the last word as if it were an expletive.

"Absolutely! I had to force them apart this one time in public and his hand was… Okay, that’s an embellishment.” He actually looked grave now and it scared Cassandra. “They were very subtle about it, but I know how the world works, Pentaghast. She loved him and he loved her. I could see it. Lily always wanted him around when we were hanging in the city and always doubling back to his slum clinic when he _wasn’t_ around. At rock bottom, she’s an awesome kid and since she was fatherless, I…had concerns. Mostly because of Justice.”

“Did you bring up those concerns? Did you feel like she was being a little... reckless?”

Varric leaned back in his chair and opened the journal. “No, no, I just had concerns as her father figure and friend and...yeah, I did talk to her about it. Eventually.”

“What did she say?”

“Well, a few days after she wrote that entry I pulled her aside at The Hanged Man for a father-and-daughter conversation over pints…”

~


	5. Heroes and Thieves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We sat in front of the roaring fireplace with Lionel in front of us and I crawled into Anders’s lap. (“ _Please_ don’t spill my tea—you or the dog.”)

5 Cloudreach, 9:34 Dragon

I really don’t need Varric to replace Daddy. “You and What’shisname seem to be getting pretty close. What’s going on, Hawke?”

I parried with my usual dry humor and playfully accused him of jealousy; of course he and Bianca the crossbow are meant to be. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Listen…as your friend, I feel that I’d be doing you a disservice if I didn’t say something.” _Oh, Maker, opposition already._ “Maybe getting involved with the possessed mage is a bad idea.”

“Varric, in all the time you’ve known me am I the type to be turned _off_ by crazy?” I said wryly.

“Point taken. Go flatter Blondie out of his boots some more, kid.”

“Joyfully.” I joined Anders at a small table in the back of The Hanged Man. “Hey, you.”

“Want to order some tea, love?”

“Yes, with a moderate amount of sugar.”

“As milady commands,” he said with a bow. “I would drown us in blood to get you tea, too!” he added dryly.

“How romantic,” I fired back. “Better than flowers and jewelry, at least!”

“I’m not that kind of man, sweetheart. Good luck in your search.”

“Well, I’m not that kind of woman. Get me a library.” (The bartender—I forget his name—looked slightly perturbed that Anders hadn’t ordered yet.)

“Tea first.”

I grinned and waited until he’d come back with two steaming mugs. It was the middle of the afternoon so we were spared the usual crowd of drunks. There’s always a crowd at Varric’s table, though—I’d rather he tell stories about me pulling doors off hinges than me and Anders.

“What’s wrong, love? Drink your tea.”

I decided to be honest. “Werewolf cycle.”

“What?”

“That’s how I refer to…my menstruation. I’m not _actually_ —”

“I wouldn’t love you any less if you were a werewolf.”

“Sometimes I feel like one…but I don’t think it’d be all fun and games. It’d be like having Justice inside you all the—” He put his hand on my knee under the table and I held it there. “—Time. By the Maker, my powers are hard enough to control as it is. Can we go home? I want to talk to you in private.”

“As long as I can slip my manifesto into the dullest books you have. Just kidding, since none of your books are dull,” he said; we were trying to seem like two friends of the opposite sex, so we didn’t hold hands. “Something’s really bothering you; what is it?”

“…I want a hug, Anders. Being without you is… It causes me physical pain and I’m scared all the time and—”

“Shh, shh, look at me.”

“If I do that, I’ll cry. It would kill me to lose you too; what if I woke up one morning and you left because I was a mon—”

“Eyas, I’m a monster, too. Come on, the sooner we get home the better I can make you feel. I’m here, love, I’m here.”

I buried my head in his shoulder and could feel where the sun had warmed it. “Thank you. It’s rare that anyone really is.” The sky was blue, the sunlight was spilling everywhere—I don’t like sunny days—and somehow we got back to The Eyrie, what I’ve named the family estate. “Hi, Mum, Anders would like some tea.”

It was unnerving to look at her face and see my dazed expression reflected back at me. “Oh. Yes, who am I to turn away a possible compatriot of my late husband?”

We stayed in the kitchen and I threaded my fingers through Anders’s; he saw that I was on edge because I wouldn’t stop staring at Mum’s flushed face. He cleared his throat. “Lily, your hair looks different. What did you do to it?”

“Reverted back to my natural dark brown hair, of course, thanks to The Black Emporium’s transformation mirror.”

“Mistress Hawke, d’you hear this?” Anders said, feigning disapproval. “Your daughter is a liar in the eyes of the Maker.” Something about the way he pretended to glare at me tickled me…or maybe I was just happy to have him close because I started to laugh. “She made me believe she was a dark blonde!”

“It darkened as she aged,” Mum explained, “and brown is a dominant trait in the Amell family—Bethany was very similar. In looks, that is—it was the bane of my existence that she and Lily never could get along.”

“Bethany was always…logical and—”

“Excuse me, Mistress Hawke, while I borrow your daughter for the rest of the afternoon.”

“Oh, that’s just _perfect_ , Anders! You see, I’m expecting a very important visitor today.”

 _An important visitor who isn’t Daddy_ , I thought sadly. _I want Mum to be happy in her old age, but…whoever she marries just won’t be Daddy._

“Well, allow me to sweep the eyas away…with her enthusiastic consent. You still want to go upstairs?”

“Yes, with the tea.” I must’ve looked concerned still because he stared long and hard at me before taking the mugs and leading me up the staircase. He waited until we were out of earshot before he spoke to me.

“Spit it out, love. Something deeper than your cycle is eating at you and you haven’t been the girl I love all day. Usually I’m the brooding one,” he said, kicking open my bedroom door since he was carrying our mugs; Lionel, my mabari that I finally own, licked both of us in greeting as we came in. We sat in front of the roaring fireplace with Lionel in front of us and I crawled into Anders’s lap. (“ _Please_ don’t spill my tea—you or the dog.”)

 

“My anxiety attacks are getting worse,” I said while he lifted the hair from my neck and licked the linear mole there. I shuddered in pleasure—took me awhile to realize I could do that, as Anders is first, last and always by now—and then he gently put his arms around me. I turned around so I was facing him but still in his lap.

“Surely this helps that?” he asked seriously

“Maker, yes, it does,” I said, caressing his face, “but…it’s Mother. I’m worried about Mum, Anders. She’s thinking of remarrying and I was close to Daddy and something terrible could happen. I didn’t have the courage to tell you until now, but…that killer is still at large and somewhere in the—“

“Lily, listen to reason. Have you been reading those swashbuckler stories since we killed DuPris?”

“Not recently.”

“Anyway, as I was saying,” he said once we had stood up, put our mugs on the nightstand and crawled into bed together fully clothed, “Kirkwall is a huge city-state. What reason would the killer have to target your mum? Men like that work in patterns and he seems to be killing prostitutes. The probability is highly unlikely, from a mathematical angle.”

“Maybe you’re right,” I sighed. “I’m just scared, Anders…”

“I know. But I’m here, so you don’t have to be. Keep moving forward, Lily. Things cannot stay the same forever.” He brushed a strand of hair out of my face. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit.”

For once I wasn’t afraid of falling asleep.


	6. Just Don't Lie To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I just kissed her, dwarf, there wasn’t any…sadism going on. Though, Lily, I’ve been meaning to tell you about this fantasy I have involving cold, dark dungeons, you springing me from a dungeon and then I would show my gratitude by using the chains on you…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be a serious entry until Varric stole my journal. Blame the dwarf because it just built from there.
> 
> As always, for my Anders. Again.

9 Cloudreach, 9:34 Dragon

Aveline and Ser Donnic are now dating. Yes, it was the most awkward thing I’ve ever seen…and I thought Anders and I were terrible the past three years.

_This is Varric, who has snatched Lily’s journal after reading it over her shoulder. Oh, seems like she wants it back—not happening until I set the record straight. Yes, she and Blondie were worse than Aveline and Donnic—I know because Fenris and I caught them in the clinic once. Blondie was tied down to the table with leather thongs (shirtless, naturally), Lily was touching his face with the edge of her knife and there was heavy breathing and Blondie was totally happy about it because if you took one look at his trousers he was as hard as a rock._

_I just kissed her, dwarf, there wasn’t any…sadism going on. Though, Lily, I’ve been meaning to tell you about this fantasy I have involving cold, dark dungeons, you springing me from a dungeon and then I would show my gratitude by using the chains on you… Sorry for invading your privacy like this, but I felt the need to defend your honor. Here’s your journal._

No, no, do go on. Just don’t tie up my legs as well or I’ll feel…funny. Just the wrists, please.

_Has Isabela been giving you pointers?_

I don’t like girls that way, Anders. Besides, Isabela’s probably done worse than what we do in bed. I do so like winning against you—it’s fun to watch you get upset. “Why are you idiots passing the journal around?” says Fenris. “We’re all sitting right here.”

_Yes, Anders, **do** keep going. I want details to work into my writing._

_Isabela, it’s none of your fucking business. …Wait? What writing?_

_You misunderstand me, dear mage. I want to know about **your** fucking business. I’m writing a story to celebrate winning a bet that the two of you would fuck in three years._

_…_

_Anders? Cat got your tongue?_

_…I’m debating whether to kill you via fire, ice or lightning bolts. How dare you use Ser Pounce-A-Lot against me! If he were here he’d claw your eyes out!_

_Anders, you’ve got a pussy cat right over here. Next to me, in fact._

 

Oy! I _can_ read you know! And I am _not_ a cat.

_You should be, it might get him hard._

Fuck you, Isabela.

_I do it out of love, sweetling. Roleplay helps people in that area._

_Are you insinuating something about my prowess?!!_

_You’re a cat person, Anders, so that shouldn’t be an issue. Is that an issue, Lily?_

…I can’t believe we’re talking about this. Beats getting ambushed, though.

_You would like it a lot more if it was--_

_Ha! Got it! Will you lot SHUT UP?! I love you all, but SHUT UP._

_…And Fenris turns on us! Can’t say I’m surprised. Here you go, love._

 

…Is there any point in finishing this now?

_No. I love you._

And I hate your guts. Right now, anyway. I’ll love you later.

_Who said anything about love? I was serious about the dungeon fantasy._

Really?! Well, I do like trying n--

_You’re so cute when you blush like that._

Shut the fuck up. You always start it.

_I love running you round in circles._

…You do know how _dirty_ that sounds, right?

_What are you…? Oh. …Oh. I just realized. Well. Shit. Damn it!!!_


	7. If You Want To Survive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Surely there can be compromise.”
> 
> “Between templars and mages, that’s impossible, love. It’s like you and Fenris’s rivalry: one of you will break eventually. It’ll only lead to pain.”

13 Cloudreach, 9:34 Dragon

Well, that entry didn’t go as planned last time—you must forgive my family for being such jokesters. (They are my family, every one of them.) I’m writing in The Hanged Man again. “So, you, Anders and Justice… Must be exciting,” teased Isabela. “You know what they say: two’s company and three is…”

“It’s not like that! I love Anders.”

“We _know_ about Anders because you two were _idiots about being sweet on each other for three years_! I want to hear about Justice—does he enjoy smiting you?”

“I enjoy being with _Anders_ ; Justice isn’t part of our relationship and that’s all I’m going to say about that.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Wow, Isabela, you’re finally learning discretion,” Anders put in sarcastically. “I need a beer after today’s confrontation with Varnell.”

“That fucking bastard,” I said bitterly. “Killing in cold blood like that—you ever think that if the Qnari were left to themselves there’d be no conflict?”

“The templars are just a club of power-hungry bastards. Cowards, all of ‘em.”

“King Alistair was a templar once,” I pointed out.

“And he had the good sense to leave and marry Lily Cousland. Queen Lily’s on the side of us mages; we talked about it a year ago. She’s got sense and doesn’t like all this fighting; she told me that in her opinion the templars had too much power. When the Blight happened, she saved the Ferelden Circle from being massacred by the templars with her own sword. I heard stories.”

“You met the queen, Anders?” I asked excitedly.

“I did, love! She gave me Ser Pounce-A-Lot, in fact…until the Grey Wardens made me get rid of him.”

“Surely not the king and queen!”

“No, no, the _other_ wardens,” he sighed bitterly. “‘Anders, that cat will make you too soft and we can’t have softness in the ranks,’ blah, blah, blah. I think they just have something against cats because they had no problem with Heathcliff.” Seeing our confused faces he added, “The queen’s mabari.”

“Well, she _is_ the queen,” Fenris was kind enough to point out from further down the bar.

“You just don’t understand what comfort a cat can be, elf.”

“Surely Hawke is an excellent replacement since they’re essentially the same: picky and demanding of your attention.”

“Your dislike for me is clear as crystal, Fenris,” I snapped; yes, I am a little bitter over his refusal. “See, I don’t much like a man who’s too much of a chicken to commit to anything serious. Plus you hating mages would kill any heat between us…if I were stupid enough to fuck you.”

“Ooh, ow,” muttered Isabela. “She has you there, mate.”

“’You’re a beautiful woman, Hawke. You’re capable, Hawke.’ Shameful that I nearly fell for it. You eat hearts because you don’t _have_ one. Heat might melt your cold heart, after all, and we can’t have _that_.”

“Uh, Lily, I thought you didn’t like conflict,” Varric muttered. Anders was drawing up what looked like a score sheet when I happened to glance at him again.

“You’d do better finding someone disposable.”

“Like Anders?” Fenris sneered. “He seems to fit the bill well enough. I’m going _home_ —at least I don’t live in a hovel that leaks.”

“Anders is more loyal than you’ve ever been! If you _really_ loved me, you might try to support our—” He was already getting up and walking out.

“Easy, Lily,” Anders said as he put a hand on my arm. “He’ll only abuse you further if you don’t let it go.”

“Surely there can be compromise.”

“Between templars and mages, that’s impossible, love. It’s like you and Fenris’s rivalry: one of you will break eventually. It’ll only lead to pain.”

“I…want to go outside on a walk, Anders, or at least feel safe somewhere.”

“Would you guys excuse us?” Anders asked. So we’re leaving on a walk. Now. …Yes, an actual walk—this isn’t just a physical thing. It’s a fundamental kinship between two mages and there’s no breaking it. _Ever_.


	8. Come To Such Sights Colder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She’s probably with her suitor, as those lilies arrived this morning,” interrupted Sandal’s father. “We haven’t seen her all day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always feel like I've run five miles when I write up the emotionally draining parts. It's one of my mage powers I love to use, but it exhausts you afterward.

20 Cloudreach, 9:34 Dragon

 

…Alright, I can finally write about this. Mum has…been dead for a week now and of course it had to be the white lilies that… She named me after that flower… We never got on well, which is just exacerbating the guilt I feel, but…Anders is here, at least. We…went on that walk a week ago and I wanted us to have our usual cup of tea together, so we were just coming in The Eyrie when I heard Uncle Gamlin in the main hall.

“Where is Leandra?” I heard him ask Sandal, the son of our dwarf steward whose name I can never remember.

“Enchantment!” came the excited reply. I gather it’s the only word Sandal knows, but thankfully us Hawkes have always had sympathy for the downtrodden so it’s usually not an issue in our house.

“No, no, no, _where…is…Leandra_ ?”

“Maker, Uncle, the boy’s not deaf! Surely Mum is in her room?” I asked as cheerily as I could.

“I needed her…” Uncle Gamlin rubbed his face agitatedly. “She disappeared on the way to my house and—”

“She’s probably with her suitor, as those lilies arrived this morning,” interrupted Sandal’s father. “We haven’t seen her all day.”

I felt my stomach drop down to my boots. “Were they…Were they white lilies? Oh, Maker, we’ve _got_ to find her! Come on, Anders!”

“Ow! Those were my fingers you just crushed!”

“Where would she be, Uncle? Where do we start?” (Anders was flexing his fingers; for once I’d hurt him by mistake.)

“Lowtown, if anything— I’ll… Lily! Lily! Wait!”

Back to The Hanged Man, where I interrupted Varric and Fenris in the middle of another drinking round. “Quick walk—usually you two are a lot slower,” Varric slurred.

“We don’t have time for dirty jokes, Varric. Sober up, Mistress Hawke has disappeared.” The hotheaded revolutionary I love was taking charge; I can take care of myself well enough, but in a crisis I don’t know where I’d be without him. “She received some white lilies this morning.”

“…Well, _fuck_!” Fenris muttered as he shook his white hair out of his face. “We have to move.”

“Yes, elf, thank you for stating the obvious,” I replied dryly.

“Shut up, Lily.”

So off we went, not really sure where we were going until I paid an urchin to give us some information. “Listen, take all the coin you want—I don’t have much time. Can you tell me where the lady you saw went…and the man who was with her?”

…I’m too drained to write it all out. It was an exhausting, gruesome search of Lowtown’s underbelly. Lime. I remember reading something about quicklime, papers everywhere and a shrine and suddenly there was Mum all…torn apart, but he’d…sewn her back together or something and the man was a _sick, twisted fucking bastard_. Body parts… Pieces… He put them together… He…He used Mum t-t-t-to put his dead wife back together and you can _fucking bet I killed him_!!!

Everything is my fault. People keep dying if I love them and it’s my fault and, oh, are you going to take Anders away too, Maker?!!! Not on my watch! “I knew you’d come,” Mum said once his magic had faded away. Her breathing was very labored…like Daddy’s, near the end.

“You know me! I always save the day!” _Is this really happening again?! Not again, I can’t lose someone else again…_

“My little girl has grown so strong…”

“Anders, do _something_!!!” I howled.

“Lily, love, I can’t. His magic was the only thing keeping her alive.” I think there were tears in his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’ve always been…so proud of you.”

“Mum, don’t…don’t say that.” So she no longer blamed me for Bethany’s death, which was the last thing I needed to hear then.

“I get to be free now.”

“Like a bird, like a…Hawke.”

One more breath and she was gone; I dropped her corpse as if it were poisonous and ran for Anders’s arms, too cold to cry. I didn’t object to being swept off my feet; if anything, I needed it. “Shh, love, you can cry…”

“No, I won’t. She always said I cried too much, that it wasn’t becoming of a lady…”

“But you’re not a lady, Lily.”

“It’s the principle of the thing.” My eyes were dry and itchy.

“Well…shit,” was all Varric could say, taking in the lair in all its terror.

“I’ll go on ahead and…prepare Gamlin,” Fenris said softly; for once, he had put his objections aside and was being polite to Anders. “Or at least be there before the rest of you show up.”

“For once, Fenris, you have a good idea,” Anders said with a hint of his normal charm. “And don’t worry, Lily,” he whispered in my ear, “I’ll take you home.”

“But it’s always been _here_ , you bastard, _right here_!”

“So…we live in the same place, then?”

“Damn right we do, Anders, damn right we do.”

I…suppose I’ll pick this up later after I’ve gotten some sleep.


	9. Up Vistaed Hopes I Sped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuck Carver and their opinions and the templars and the Chantry and rules. I resolved then, standing in that corridor, to stand by him until the very end, no matter what will happen to us. I love him and after three years of fighting with myself, I might as well try to be happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't _mean_ to make it steamy, it just naturally went there! Sorry!

Alright, to continue on… Anders got me home and into the library, where the usual fire was burning in the grate. Normally it’s the one place other than my bedroom where I can shut the world out without any guilt, but Uncle came pounding downstairs. “Did you find her?” he asked, sounding about as lost as I felt. “You were right about the flowers and everything, I can’t believe…”

“She’s gone, Uncle,” I said in a hard voice and he staggered as if I’d hit him with Cone of Cold…which, in a way, I had. “We have to move on. Mum wouldn’t want us to dwell on it.” My gaze was focused on the fire.

“I’m not like you!!” Uncle Gamlen exploded hotly. “I can’t just throw my grief in a closet and never look at it again!!” He began to pace up and down and I was uncomfortably aware of how his shoes squeaked a little bit. “Maybe the templars are right… Magic’s been nothing but a curse in this family!”

“You want the templars locking me up too, Uncle? I’m a mage just as much as Mother’s killer was, but…we’re not all monsters. I was born like this and so was Anders; it’s a fundamental part of who we are. It can do…great things, beautiful things, even, but sometimes living with a disability is exhausting.”

“You’re just parroting that apostate _boy’s_ extremist views!” he snapped.

“They’re rather liberal, actually,” I said sarcastically. “Leave him out of this!” I added, rare aggression creeping into my voice. “He’s not even in the room.”

“My dear, you brought him up. Why Leandra, though?” he sobbed. “Why her?”

“She looked like the mage’s dead wife. I don’t see how knowing that will change anything.”

Uncle ran his hands through his graying hair. “Sometimes I doubt whether you can feel anything like the rest of us. Why couldn’t you have been _normal_ like your brother?!” It…was like he’d hit me in the jaw; I sat there stunned into silence. “It’s been a long day. You’d better rest and I need to go…tell Carver. Take care, my dear.” I continued to sit there even after Uncle had left the house, but I finally looked up when the door creaked open.

“—Lily?” Anders said my name in that tender way that, no matter how long we’ve been apart and how strong I pretend to be, absolutely melts me like a candle every time.

I rubbed at my itchy eyes. “Maker, you didn’t hear all that, did you?”

“Oh, nothing Carver hasn’t said a million times before,” he laughed softly.

“How can you laugh?” I asked as he came toward me and knelt down.

“Better than being angry or depressed,” he said, playing with my fingers. “Maker knows I’ve been that too much.” Then he was kissing me like in the clinic that first time, hungrily, like…he hadn’t had water and was thirsty, I guess. Bad simile. In any case, all I remember was my nerves being on fire and…falling on top of him, I think.

“I know I shouldn’t,” I panted, “but…but I want this so much.”

“Now you know how it feels to be me, mm?” he said after he’d kissed me again. “Not much fun, is it?”

“Oh, it’s horrid, but I love… Maker, Anders, don’t pant like that…I…” I think his hand was sliding up my leg, but you can never be sure when you’re not thinking clearly. Fire, fire, I was on fire, I…

“It’s horrid, but you love it,” he hissed, “especially when I just…stop what I’m doing and…”

“Maker, don’t pant like that,” I moaned. “Do you know what you do to me?! I…I want to kill you until you…until you…oh, oh, oh…” My fingernails scratched his cheek, but it wasn’t like either of us cared.

“Until I what, eyas?” he asked, pulling back from me all of a sudden and looking charming the whole time. “Until we get on fire like this and suddenly I stop just to tease--?” I scratched at his face again, not really intending to hurt but hoping in the moment that it did. Somehow in the middle of all this we’d switched positions—can’t remember how—and he was on top of me and…he pulled back. “I know your every weakness. How does a cup of tea sound right about now?”

“Why did you stop?!” I whimpered, sweaty and sitting up.

“Because I love to run you around in circles! Surely you’ve gathered that by now.” He stood, wiped his face and helped me to my feet. “I’ll get us some tea,” he said gently, “and I’ll see you upstairs.” I trembled as he ran a finger down my cheek, then somehow managed to get myself to the second floor alone. The first thing I remembered was that Mother’s room was at the end of the hall and I deliberately avoided it out of guilt. Suddenly the unbreakable bond between Anders and I seemed petty in the face of…all this death.

But he was always on my side from the word go and now I need him more than ever. Fuck Carver and their opinions and the templars and the Chantry and rules. I resolved then, standing in that corridor, to stand by him until the very end, no matter what will happen to us. I love him and after three years of fighting with myself, I might as well try to be happy.

We got serious again when he finally did bring the tea into my room; we sat together on my bed holding our mugs. “I know…I know that nothing I say will change it. I just… I’m sorry. You were lucky to have her as long as you did and when the pain fades, that’s what will matter.”

“I didn’t try hard enough to save her.”

“She wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.” When Anders said that, I…thought of Bethany and all the years of quiet resentment Mum held against me for her death.

“You don’t know my mother,” I said bitterly.

“No…and I’m sorry I never will. But I am here, whatever you need.”

I squeezed his hand. “Thank you, love.”

“Ow! Are you trying to break my fingers?”

“Quite possibly,” I laughed. “Just to see if I can.”


	10. Far From The Madding Crowd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “She’s having innocent Qnari killed for existing! Where’s your sense of justice?! I saw it, you know, with Varnell… He bound a Qnari and slit his throat because the Qnari was under his control!”

28 Cloudreach, 9:34 Dragon

 

I told him I needed him to stay, which is true enough. Who am I kidding? I’ve always been inclined to be honest and, worse, I think he knows it. “What in the name of Andraste am I doing in your bed?” he asked me this morning.

“I _let_ you in my bed,” I reminded him. “Sober. There was no ale involved, just a lot of enthusiasm.”

“Well, I’d expect no less from you,” he laughed. “You’re very willing.”

“With the right man,” I giggled. “Everyone else is _boring_!” I fell back against the pillows and rolled over onto my stomach. “Well, to me. You’re different, creative like myself and stimulating…mentally.”

“And not in any other way?” he asked, running a finger down the scar on my back and making me shudder happily. “How’d you get this? I’ve been meaning to ask.”

“Mm, that’s lovely, please don’t stop…”

“You’re playing a very dangerous game, telling me not to stop…”

“I can always lock you up.”

“Magey makes a valid point…but could you really lock me up?”

“If it lead to making you mine and kept the people who would hate us away…then yes.”

“Are you asking what I think you’re asking?”

“For you to love me and share my home and my heart and my bed until we’re elderly…”

“So, marriage.”

“Yes, essentially, but without the nasty parchment and the Chantry hissing down our necks. I mean, why not? We don’t have to tell anyone. We can put it in writing and sign it since it will just be between us and the Chantry won’t get in the way. Or the templars either.”

“Carver will be very upset, you know, having a mage as a brother-in-law,” Anders pointed out as he gently flipped me onto my back and held my hands.

“When have I ever cared about what he thinks? I love you and that’s not going to change—I tried to get rid of that feeling for years, but you made it quite difficult just because you’re you,” I said honestly.

“I told you to not deny what you feel, remember?”

“Hypocritical bastard,” I teased, grinning.

“No, just extraordinarily dense sometimes.”

“It’s sweet when combined with the hotheaded revolutionary thi—” I never finished my thought because he was kissing me and…well…all I wanted was…was him underneath me. There, happy, Varric? That should feed you and Isabela’s friend fiction fodder. “You make me…very weak, much against my better judgment,” I admitted, wrapping my legs around him. He gently bit my neck and I groaned.

“The feeling’s mutual. Hey, when we’re finished having fun, let’s get our union in writing, shall we?”

“You’ll have to burn it.”

“Can’t be any more difficult than making you burn up.”

“Anders, that’s easy for you.”

“I do love it when I win.”

“You vex me.”

“I get that a lot—the greatest delight of my life other than you on top of me like right—”

“You’re terrible!” I said, trying to scold and failing miserably. “How many other women and men did you use that line on?”

“I do tell the truth,” he said in a singsong voice. “I’d never lie to you unless I had to protect you.”

“So do I. It’s going to get us in trouble, you know.”

“I do love trouble. Get down here, you.”

My head was resting against his chest by now; I hadn’t felt so safe in…many, many years. “Anders?”

“Mm?” His warm breath was comforting against my long brown hair.

“You… _did_ remember to close and lock the door this time, right?”

Would it surprise you if I said he threw a pillow at me for that? One more excuse to pretend to punish me…but I enjoy it because it leads to awesome things. No, I can’t tell you what those are.

The political arena is a lot more complicated and it’s mostly due to Anders that I’m beginning to pay attention. I’ve spent most of my life running from the templars, but now I’m trying to understand how they work. There’s clearly corruption and it’s spreading like an epidemic, infecting everyone except Knight Captain Cullen, who guards the Gallows these days. “I _can’t_ question Meredith, Hawke!” he says all the time.

 _But you should because it might prevent my husband from dying and you don’t want a second Ferelden on your hands, do you?_ “Well, let me!”

“The last mage she’d take orders from is you! You have no power and having her against you with the Qnari on the rise wouldn’t be a smart move. There’s bound to be rebellion any day!”

“Listen, if we can get rid of Mother Patrice we might be able to solve this without killing anyone. She hasn’t exactly been fond of—”

“Lily, I can’t discuss this! I saw terrible things happen in Ferelden and I don’t want them to happen here!”

“She’s having innocent Qnari killed for existing! Where’s your sense of justice?! I saw it, you know, with Varnell… He bound a Qnari and slit his throat because the Qnari was under his control!”

“It’s not worth starting conflict over, my friend,” Cullen said tiredly, running his hands through his blond hair.

“I think it is! Ignore the Qnari and both the mages and the Qnari will be crushed…or we’ll rebel,” I added threatingly. “Help the innocent, the people who really need it, and we can prevent bloodshed!”

“And put your brother at risk?” Cullen snapped. “I didn’t think you’d be so heartless!”

“Cullen, it’s not like that! Carver stopped being my brother the day he joined the order!”

“Listen, Hawke, I know this is important to you, but…”

“But…?”

“If you fight back, more people will be killed. I knew a mage at the Ferelden Circle who would rally behind you and…”

“Anders,” I supplied.

“Yes,” he said, “but rebellion is never a good idea.”

“Cullen, history says that sometimes we have no other option. If we don’t _act_ , nothing will fucking change in Kirkwall!” The Gallows courtyard was suddenly too hot for me to stand. “Would you rather that life just remain as oppressive as it is?” With that said, I stomped off, fuming. “I thought you had a conscience, Rutherford!”

“I do!”

“So use it, you ass!”

“…Had another run-in with the Knight Captain?” were the first words out of Anders’s mouth when I showed up at The Hanged Man.

“Yes, love, get me hot tea,” I sighed, frustrated by the spring heat. “At least Cullen…has doubts, even if he can’t act on them.”

“He should,” Anders said darkly, getting up to get my tea. “You’d think he’d be friendlier to you with Carver in the templars…”

I shut my eyes for a moment, drifting off. _Magic exists to serve man and never to rule over him. Magic exists to serve man and never to rule over him…_ How many times had Daddy made Bethany and I memorize that? Too many times. I opened my eyes, my gaze never leaving Anders at the bar; my worry for him ebbs and flows like the surf at the Wounded Coast and I know he feels the same way about me, his wife. There have been raids, but thankfully because of my good name we’ve been spared the worst of it. I hear the clanking of templar armor in the street and am instantly taken back to my childhood; I broke my two front teeth when a templar hit me at the age of twelve, but Daddy managed to fix them with magic so it’s not noticeable unless you squint. I try not to wake Anders when the flashbacks come, just hold him quietly in the dark. He has enough to deal with as it is, I know.

“Lily, love, your head’s in the clouds.”

“What? Oh, sorry, Anders.”

“Your tea, milady.”

For once I wasn’t in the mood to flirt. “Seriously, love, something’s got to be done; everything is broken.”

He reached across the table and held my hand. “Not everything. We’re not, for one thing.”

“Somehow,” I laughed.

“Don’t credit anyone but yourself for that.”

“I…you know, the cheap phrase I hate using.”

“It’s a mutual statement.”

“Your tea might get cold.”

“Way to spoil the mood, Lily.”

“ _Someone_ likes their tea hot…the same way he likes his bed,” I said slyly.

Anders proceeded to spit out his mouthful of tea. “I didn’t know you were so bad.”

“Neither did I.” I sighed. “I’m on your side, you know, whatever happens,” I said seriously.

“It means the world to me.”

“Aveline wanted to see me; I’d better go…and you’d better clean up that spilt tea.”

“Hush, you.”

On a spring day like today, it’s hard to believe there can be such strife in the city. I long for rain, a sweeping thunderstorm, a natural force bigger than myself. Mother Patrice is absolutely in the wrong, but…but how do I make the people in power see that?


	11. Rebellion In Its Chosen Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Arishock of course blamed me for Isabela’s actions and threatened to tear me to pieces…and then Fenris, who broods all the time and never says anything, actually stood up for me!!! Maybe the Maker finally gave him some sense, though He was really late on the delivery.

30 Cloudreach, 9:37 Dragon

I keep misplacing this book, being naturally messy and disorganized; Anders found it when he was cleaning our bedroom this morning. “You’re lucky Lionel didn’t piss on this, darling wife,” he said dryly, tossing it to me.

“He’s housebroken, my lord—only pisses on Knight Commander Meredith and burglars.”

“Don’t tell Carver that.”

“You know we no longer talk to Carver if I can help it,” I said, studying my husband appreciatively from the floor. “That’s a fucking gorgeous outfit, Anders, honestly.”

“Are you anything but honest?” he said wryly, leaning against the bedroom door in his black robes; with the feathered vest, he resembles a crow if crows had long blond hair. I only truly feel safe in this house; I don’t like being the Champion of Kirkwall, really. (“Think about the benefits, love, free tea,” Anders pointed out once soon after the title was thrust on me…and then he nipped my earlobe and I couldn’t object to anything after that, if you know what I mean.) Things finally did come to a boil with the Qnari—I’ve never had to step around a decapitated human head before until they beheaded Dumar and took over the keep.

Everything involving Dumar was actually quite horrid, though as usual I resorted to witty one-liners to keep from…going over the edge. His son was killed brutally, as was Mother Patrice; the kid was perhaps the only hope we had for brokering peace…other than Isabela. She betrayed us, you understand, by taking the sacred Qnari text I believed we were giving back to them so we could avoid violence. I haven’t seen her in Kirkwall since the night of the uprising—no idea how she escaped. Anders and I are both slightly bitter about it, as she very nearly got the entire lot of us killed.

You’ll never guess who saved us that night, though, it’s quite a story. The Arishock of course blamed me for Isabela’s actions and threatened to tear me to pieces…and then Fenris, who broods all the time and never says anything, actually stood up for me!!! Maybe the Maker finally gave him some sense, though He was really late on the delivery. “She’s not Qnari and respected by you,” he said in his rich voice, “so she has the right to challenge you in single combat.”

“Are you mad, Fenris?” I muttered. “I can’t fight him all by myself!”

“Weigh your options, Lily,” he whispered from behind me. “Would you rather go against sixteen Qnari or one?”

“I _am_ right here, you know,” Anders pointed out heatedly, resembling a cat. “You don’t have to be so close to her.”

“Would you want me to scream the battle plan to the entire keep then, mage?”

“No, no, go on and do the entire thing in song,” Anders said dryly.

“With sword-fighting at the same time!” I added cheerily.

“Both of you need to _shut up_!” Fenris snapped.

“But it’s so easy to take the piss out of you, Fenris.”

“Enough! Combat it is!” declared the Arishock.

…Admittedly, I don’t much like writing about violence, which is why I want to skip over everything with the viscount and his son as well. Most of it. The only people who read this will be me, my Anders and Varric and all of us lived it once already. “Today can’t get any worse,” I said, flinging sarcasm in the wake of death and destruction. “It’s pretty late.” Sarcasm is the only way I know to fight my death phobia, even if I come off as inappropriate.

“Forgive me, Hawke, for seeing no humor in the death of my son.” We all fell silent, even Varric and I. “Leave me.” The next time I saw Dumar, I only saw his severed…severed…severed…come on, write it…severed head. I didn’t _want_ to resort to violence; Maker knows I never do unless Anders is in harm’s way, in which case everyone who’d dare lay a hand on him is fair game. Meredith I wouldn’t hesitate to kill myself, as she’s clearly too bloodthirsty to rule Kirkwall. Someone needs to…do something about her, but no one has the stomach to act…except perhaps me and… A quick and clean assassination, like in the tales Daddy told about the old kings. Had I been a…normal human rogue, I would… I can’t write it; they could invade any day, they could find this, they could kill us, they could kill my love, my husband, and incite my furious, primal rage--

Sorry, that was awkward. I threw the journal across the room last night and Anders heard me and of course I just had to be the weeping wife like in paintings… I don’t cry prettily, dabbing at my face with a cloth; my sobbing tends to choke me and I feel weaker emotionally after a crying fit. “Love, what…?”

“Hold me, Anders. I _hate_ them.”

“Who? Calm down, love, Lily, come back…” He was using the same phrases I use when he…loses control of himself and Justice takes over.

“All of them! The Chantry, the templars, all of them! We wouldn’t be scared if it wasn’t for _them_! We wouldn’t have to keep our marriage a secret if it wasn’t for _them_! I hate them because they won’t be reasonable and you know I don’t like violence, but we _have_ to use it! If we don’t, no one will! What’s worse, love? Showing the world how bad it is once and risking a handful of people or quietly standing by while Meredith commits genocide?! Bethany wouldn’t stand for it and I refuse to let them have you. Not while I breathe.” Aveline had used the phrase seven years ago and it powerfully affected me, though I never mentioned that to her.

He held me tighter. “I…I…I…”

I wiped my eyes against his black feather vest, clinging to my raven. “What is it?”

“I…love you too, eyas. I love you, Lily, I love you, I love you, I love you…” He…began to kiss me very heavily, all over where he could reach; I licked his cheek.

“You taste salty,” I said gently, “like…the ocean.”

“We need to go there again, you and I. All we had at the Ferelden Circle was a lake. Forget about them. Everything but us; tonight will be just for us…” I nuzzled into the warmth of his neck and began to kiss him too; we were…starving for each other so much that we didn’t even bother getting into bed. We just…fell asleep together on the floor, warmed by each other and the fireplace.

“You feel so good, Anders,” I said sleepily before drifting off.

His breath was on my neck. “Glad to hear it; so do you. I promise you when this is all over we’ll have sex _much_ more often.”

“You know, if I have to I could nick a pair of irons from the Gallows…”

“Mm, I’d like that very much,” he said with a sleepy laugh, running his finger down my back; I couldn’t hold back the sigh I made. “I go first, you’d break my chains and then I’d show you the best gratitude a fellow apostate can offer…and no whips. Pain’s not your cup of tea.”

I must have fallen asleep because all I remember is warmth and safety and then I was waking up on the floor. He was gone again, but…he left his black feathered vest for me, so I’ve been wearing it all day. That keeps happening a lot, his vanishing, but…one gets used to it. I never feel safe until he’s come home again. He’s been craving slightly more tea than usual, staying out later and later…but it’s a sacrifice I can make as long as it helps the innocent. Meredith has lost her fucking mind. I tried to reason with the Grand Cleric last week, but she was having none of it. “The Maker created mages. Why doesn’t He protect them?” I asked her as bluntly as I could.

“I truly feel for the mages, child, but…” Always an objection, always. She wouldn’t take sides even though the Knight Commander is clearly mad; why can’t anyone see it? The more time I spend seeing injustice and innocent mages being treated like hounds, the crazier I feel because the rest of Kirkwall ignores it!! I have to write about it so I can document that it’s happening. Every night there is the clank of armor and distressed sobbing that tears me apart—another mage being taken away. I installed bolts on the front door one day when Anders went to a rebellion meeting and I think he was too keyed up when he came home to notice. (I used magic; Daddy was always disappointed that I never was skilled with practical tools.)

But I’m tired and should take a nap. Will pick this up later.

~

“So the rebellion, the…attack was _her_ idea?” snapped Cassandra. “That’s not the way I heard it…”

“Lily’s my best friend, Seeker, and with the way tensions were boiling I think the two of them felt pushed into a corner, like mice cornered by ferocious cats.” _Blondie would like that comparison…_ Varric shook his head sadly. “They’re good kids, really…”

“You keep reiterating that; stop repeating yourself, dwarf!”

“You’ve got to have empathy for this part,” Varric explained, clinging to Lily’s brown leather journal. _One of them…_ he thought dryly, amused that he was outsmarting Cassandra a little bit. “I know from the outside how awful the whole thing looks; Maker knows how many people still hate Anders for his crime to this day. I read that part to you, that he wouldn’t lie to her unless he had to protect her…and she was the only one of us he couldn’t hurt. I know because I know them both…and Anders was capable of hurting a lot of people if it meant mage freedom.”

Cassandra snorted incredulously. “He proved that well enough. So where did the Champion stand in all this?”

“For the Maker’s sake, she’s got a name! Use it! She hated to use the title unless it would keep Anders safe!”

“Need I remind you who’s giving the orders around here?”

“I think that if I’m kind enough to tell you the whole story, you might as well grant one request of mine. Or two. Use Lily’s name and…get me a mug of mead. My throat’s a little dry…”

“Get him some mead,” Cassandra ordered one of the guards, her gaze never leaving Varric’s; the dwarf was eyeing her with automatic skepticism. The evening torches had been lit hours ago, but Cassandra would keep this bastard in this cold cell as long as it took to get answers. The interrogator and her guest winced as the guard slammed the door shut in his pursuit of the drink.

“No, Anders had planned this; I know the guy. He likes to ruminate, pace the floor and analyze every little thing. Remember, though, Vengeance was taking over his mind more and more often, so what happened next wasn’t entirely his fault.”

~


	12. May Freedom's Champion Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I…would worry more for Anders, actually,” I admitted softly, stepping closer to the fireplace.

2 Bloomingtide 9:37 Dragon

Orisino wants to see me at the Gallows—I suppose I’ll have to pull out that stick Meredith has up her arse… B, our trusty dwarf manservant throughout most of our marriage, is leaving us; I’m quite sad to see him and Sandal go, as they’ve become like family to us since Mum died. “We’ll be better off in Orlais at the royal court,” he said.

“Well, tell me…one more story about your time with Queen Lily and King Alistair, B. Just one, before they saved the world and took the throne and brought peace and all that.”

“I have many of those, milady. What kind of story do you want to hear?” he asked me cheerfully. I sat down and hugged my knees.

“Something romantic. I know, usually I prefer dragons and wit, but since Kirkwall is…” I scratched Lionel behind the ears. “…Falling apart, I want to hear a story about unconditional love.”

“Ah, well, as long as you promise to put in your journal in your own words, I can tell it to you. I’m no storyteller like Master Tethras, but I can certainly give it a try for you, milady…”

So, at about the time I was fleeing Lothering seven years ago, a girl named Lily Cousland was setting out to stop the Blight. B says she was brunette and green-eyed like myself and, like Mum, initially better off. She was a year younger than I was then, twenty-three, and born in the summer as well. The Cousland estate was burned just before Ostagar—an excellent time to be betrayed by your family friends, don’t you think? Lady Lily was the only survivor of the massacre, but according to B, who was there for most of the journey, she was as tough as nails…except for this one time with King Alistair. 

He had picked a rose for her in Lothering, of all places, and Master B saw him give it to her in camp when they were all resting after a long day of fighting. “D’you know what this is?”

“A dried rose, it looks like.”

“Well, yes, very good, glad your eyes work,” the king said. B says that the queen has an extremely serious temperament, but something about Alistair just made her giggle like a little girl. She never laughed in those days; her family had been murdered all at once and the death of Teryn Fergus’s son and her nephew had hit her very hard. The king was the first and only man who could actually make her smile, like in the fairytales I read as a child. “How could something so beautiful grow in the middle of all this destruction? In a way…I think the same thing when I look at you. What a rare and wonderful person you are, Lily.”

“So what happened then?” I asked excitedly.

“Oh, I had to go get my dinner so I left the two of them to have privacy. I didn’t see them the rest of the evenin’. But I remember the queen asking the king what she was supposed to do with the rose and he told her to keep it. She had it pinned to her armor the night they fought at the fort, it’s said…and the queen’s not fond of flowers in the least,” B laughed.

“That says something about the king’s qualities, then.”

“A good man all-around, as is his wife. You’d like her, very much on the side of the mages; she reminds me of Master Anders in that way. The Ferelden Circle owes her their lives and Wynne, one of her companions, is an advisor to the king and queen, it’s said.”

“I could take that job.”

“Kirkwall would go to pieces without you, serah.”

“I…would worry more for Anders, actually,” I admitted softly, stepping closer to the fireplace. “You know I do worry about him quite a lot. He vanishes a lot these days, but he has his reasons… I think his anxiety attacks have stopped,” I said brightly. “He’s sleeping better now…and I think that’s him coming through the cellar.” I sprinted off, grateful to be away from B’s concern. Varric was with him as well.

“Can we talk for a moment, Varric?” I heard him ask from my place at the top of the stairs. “Privately?”

“Any time, Blondie,” came the affectionate response. “Anyone who’s Lily’s friend is a friend of mine.”

“Well, we’re sort of more than friends…” I heard him say shyly and my cheeks burned yet again; he has a bad habit of making me do that and I quietly backed away from the cellar stairs. “Mm, she’s not home… I wanted you to have this,” he said and I went back upstairs to our bedroom to wait for him. I suppose I was so exhausted that I fell asleep on the floor because when I woke up I felt warm and safe and he was bending over me.

“Hey, you, am I dreaming?” I asked sleepily. “This is rather nice, but I’ve had this dream before and you’re going to go and walk away or still actually be at the meeting… Pinch me, love,” I said, bringing his hand down toward my cheek.

“You know I can do much better than that,” he said and he took my face in his hands like in the clinic years ago—was it really so long ago?—and gave me one of those tender kisses that set the butterflies in my stomach loose.

“Alright,” I said when I could catch my breath, “that wasn’t a dream, you win.”

“When do I not win with you?”

“Excellent…question…” I murmured into the warmth of his collar as my legs wrapped around him. “Is just cuddling alright?”

“Anything.”

“Mm, anything? Be careful what you offer…” I laughed.

“Don’t use my own words against me. Hush.”

“You can’t force me,” I retorted, nipping gently at his ear.

“Be careful, I just might try to challenge—oh—that. Do that again, will you? Please? Please?”

“Anders, I didn’t know you could beg.”

“I can melt you just as…easily.” He licked the space between my neck and shoulder. “The first one to groan loses!”

“You have to turn everything into a competition.”

“Makes life more interesting, mm? Mm?”

“Anders, stop or I’ll…” I was laughing.

“Hit me? Go on, unleash all your wrath, come on, you’re allowed…”

“…I can’t! I really…” I punched him lightly on the cheekbone. “That’s for making get your sela p—whatever, the shit and piss stuff!”

“You really _do_ love me, don’t you, Hawke? What wife goes to get piss for her husband?”

I was on top of him by now and deliriously happy; I have to write about the happy times because we rarely get a moment alone together these days. Sometimes I even get irrationally scared he’ll leave The Eyrie and won’t…come back to me. “The crazy ones.”

“Crazy is nothing new to me,” he laughed.

“I feel the same way…which is why I stayed and will always stay. You can’t get rid of me now.”

“You know I’d never want to get rid of you, eyas.” I cawed in response and he laughed. “That was a crow, love.”

“Well, I’m sorry; you rarely see hawks around Kirkwall.”

“Except you,” he pointed out, running his left thumb down my face.

“How’s that scar healing up?” I asked, grabbing at his thumb and he groaned in exasperation. “It’s not every day you get bitten by a dragon—hey!” I protested as he pulled me down on top of him. “I care about your health, Anders!”

“Must you always sabotage my attempts at romance, Lily?”

“Yes! It’d be cliché otherwise and I don’t like those! Normally in the tales the hero never kisses the heroine as fast as you did that first time,” I laughed.

“I never can resist you very long.”

“You began it, talking about making deals with demons and…and…and…” I felt the heat in my cheeks. “ _Anders_ , don’t stop…whatever it is you’re doing, please don’t, not this time…” I felt…felt…felt his hand wandering under my tunic and could feel myself yielding. He makes that sighing sound and I just fall to pieces; I grabbed for his injured hand—the one he wasn’t using--and gently bit it.

“You tease,” he laughed.

“But you love it.”

“Maker’s breath, do I ever! I want those Gallows chains on you _now_ , Hawke!”

“Shh!” I squeaked. “Varric’s not here, is he?”

“You worry too much,” he said gently, holding my hands behind my back with one hand and tilting me back into his arms with the other. He never fails to leave me _burning_ , you know, and I love it. Apparently time passed because we’d just…finished when there was a polite knock on the door. 

“Serah?”

“One second, B,” I called, tossing Anders his black robes and struggling back into my own. “What’s the matter?”

“A letter just arrived from, um, let’s see here…King Alistair. Says it’s urgent.”

“What’s the old boy doing here, of all places?” Anders muttered, stepping into his clothes.

“You think he’s come to give Meredith a piece of his mind…or his blade?” I asked excitedly. “In that case, I _have_ to see this!”

But I really must go to the Gallows now, so I’ll tell you about meeting the king when I return.


	13. Tomorrow Scorn Will Blight My Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> …Forgive me, I have to pause every so often in telling you this story because it’s quite draining, retelling and reliving it at the same time.

12 Bloomingtide, 9:37 Dragon

…A lot has happened. A lot. For one thing, this is a new journal Varric gave me and second, I’m seasick yet again. Ser Pounce is curled up on Anders’s stomach and the smell of our cabin is a heady mixture of Lionel, Pounce and mine and Anders’s unwashed bodies. Mum would be ashamed of the state I’m in and the fact that I’ve…abandoned The Eyrie for good; much to Anders’s amusement I attempted to take half the library with us. “For someone on the run, you’re not being very practical, Lily.”

“Two things, my lord: I’m a dreamer and knowledge is power. It’s mostly biographies so I can study up on the Grey Wardens and other Circles—”

“Shh! Not so loud!”

“Meredith’s _dead_ , she can’t hear me.”

“Her supporters can. We have to escape while Cullen gives us the chance!”

“I know, I know!”

“…I’ve never seen you so cheerful!”

“Disconcerting, is it?”

“No, it’s a lovely change.”

What was going on when I wrote last? Ah, yes, King Alistair… He requested my presence at the keep, which I always feel like I’m trespassing in these days since Dumar’s death. There was a lot of yelling going on when we entered. “Maker give me strength,” I muttered. “Why does Meredith have to be here…?”

“They fled to Ferelden and _you_ offered them aid and protection!” She was yelling at the king like he’d just broken a pot in the kitchen; Alistair looked just as done with her raving as I’ve felt for years. He’s tall and handsome and red-haired, but obviously the ship journey and Meredith had worn him out so he wasn’t at his best.

“Well, you know, my wife does have compassion in her blood…as do I,” Alistair replied coldly. “When the oppressed are in trouble, you help them…or have I always read the Chant of Light wrong?”

_Ha! Score one for our king!_

“Well,” Meredith snapped, “when Ferelden chooses a new king it had better be one who takes his duty to the Maker seriously.”

“He seems to already be doing that if he’s sheltering mages,” Anders whispered to me.

“Don’t let her hear you,” I said as Meredith stomped out.

“That was awkward,” Alistair admitted into the quiet of the keep.

“Ah, here she is!” said a stranger at the king’s side who I, embarrassingly enough, did not know. He seemed to be a distant relation of or advisor to the king, as he also had red hair and carried himself like one of the court. “This is the Champion of Kirkwall, Lily Chaliè Hawke.”

“Another one,” the king laughed, finally starting to relax. “I’ve got a Lily waiting for me at home, the fabled dragon-slayer queen. She wanted to come, but with the unrest here and in Orlais, I didn’t think it was wise.” He shook my hand warmly, as if we’d just met at The Hanged Man over a pint. “I’m Alistair…uh, king of Ferelden and this is my uncle, Teagan. Sort of.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty. I’ve heard a lot of stories about you.”

“Only the good ones, I hope.”

“So far.” I glanced back at the door Meredith had exited from. “Don’t mind her. That’s just Meredith’s idea of Kirkwall hospitality.”

“Kirkwall _brutality_ must wipe the skin off your face, then,” the king quipped and I fought to suppress a sudden urge to giggle.

“Unfortunately we’re known for it. I’m not, but most of us are.”

“Your middle name is Orlesian?” asked the king genially.

“Yes; I haven’t looked into the history much, but some distant ancestors of my mother were born there.”

“If only we could send you in as diplomat. Things are not well over there.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Assassinations, uprisings, fancy parties with stinky cheeses…”

“Say, weren’t you a Grey Warden once?” Anders piped up, as if he’d just remembered something.

“That’s the rumor,” Alistair said wryly. “Wait…weren’t you?”

“That’s the rumor.”

“I guess we get around. I love family reunions and all, everyone, but I came to talk business. Meredith and I don’t agree on the treatment of the mages and with no viscount in power here, there’s bound to be some sort of trouble…and I was hoping you could help with that, Hawke.”

“You could always instate me as viscount,” I pointed out. “My name carries enough weight in Kirkwall for that to be a possibility…even though I have no interest in political power at all. Better me than…well…”

“A nice idea, but my support won’t do you any good without the backing of the templars.”

“…Admittedly, they don’t like me much.”

“Which is why your focus should be protecting Kirkwall.”

“From what, exactly?”

“She just walked out the door, if you ask me,” the king sighed exasperatedly. “Probably the ex-templar in me talking.”

“I’m inclined to agree with you there…King Alistair,” Anders said ruefully.

“Is there to be a war?”

“Maker, I hope not! Ferelden has enough to deal with as it is! If there is, Hawke, your main objective should be protecting this city at any cost.”

“Understood, sir,” I said, saluting. “I hope to do my home country proud.”

“Would you ever consider returning if the opportunity presented itself?”

“Kirkwall is my home, but of course I would. I’m homesick for Ferelden a good bit these days.”

“Good, we could use you there. Well, Teagan, I suppose we’d better get back to the old ball and chain,” King Alistair said, affectionate sarcasm in his voice; having met him in person, it’s easy to see why Queen Lily fell so hard for him and why he’s so beloved by the populace back home. _That is what a good king should be_ , I thought, even if I’m not as well-versed in politics as Anders.

“The queen hates it when you call her that,” Teagan laughed.

“No, she doesn’t. She may have killed the archdemon, but she doesn’t scare me.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Your Majesty. She’s probably worried sick about you…”

“Send a raven ahead of us so she doesn’t worry. In fact, I’ll write the message myself; where in the Maker’s name is an office?” I saw his brow furrow with loving concern.

“You’re the king, Alistair, I’m sure they can spare you a quill and vellum…”

“How very romantic,” I said sincerely when the king was out of earshot.

“I thought you and Blondie weren’t into romance,” Varric muttered.

“We’re not, Varric,” Anders assured him. “Distance is a small price to pay for what we have…and what the king probably has, if Cousland is as strong a woman as Hawke.”

“Stronger than me, I imagine,” I said humbly. “She took out more dragons in six months than I see in a year.”

“It’s about who wields the sword, not what you kill with it,” Anders remarked sagely. “It all comes down to our choices in the battle between good and evil.”

“You mean staff, surely,” I corrected him with a smile.

“Sword is more poetic.”

“But harder to swing around, huh?” Varric asked slyly.

“That’s none of your business, Varric,” Anders said testily.

“Justice, Anders should come out and play.”

“…Shut up.”

“Love, he was only joking,” I pointed out when all of us had left the keep and Varric was headed for The Hanged Man.

Anders ran a hand through his blond hair, obviously distracted by something. “I…I know. I feel like you’re the only person who won’t give up on me, even though I’ve given you every reason to turn away.” His vulnerability made me choke up, quietly listening to him. “You know I get paranoid and blame myself; I get scared you’ll freeze on me, love…”

“Don’t say that,” I whispered, kissing his hands and grateful we’d found an empty alley.”Anders, Anders, Anders, don’t you know me at all? I will always be your wife and I keep my promises. Anyone who harms you can…go to the Dread Wolf, for all I care!”

“I love when you get vicious on my behalf.”

“I mean it, Anders!” I choked out. “No matter what happens.”

“I know you mean it; it’s why I fell in love with you. You’re honest, a little naïve, even, but you mean everything you say.” He was smiling broadly with relief. “I _knew_ you’d support me in this, Lily! I just knew!”

“But what are you doing?”

“Taking you in my arms, spinning you around in this really cramped alley so that the hawk can fly…”

I was laughing…again. I hadn’t laughed this much since Mum died. “No, really, what are you planning, love? I want to—”

“You…have to trust me, alright? It’ll secure our freedom, just know that, and whatever happens is on my head, not yours.”

“Please don’t talk like that; I don’t want to think about losing you!” I begged, flinging my arms around his neck. “Life was so very bleak before you came along,” I sighed into his shoulder, happy to be held by him. Writing about it now makes me choke up; I had to pause in writing this entry and go check on him, kiss him on the forehead and somehow I managed it without irritating Ser Pounce, who just wants to sleep.

Maybe going to bed will make the seasickness go away. Ooh, yes, I get the top bunk! Brilliant! …Forgive me, I have to pause every so often in telling you this story because it’s quite draining, retelling and reliving it at the same time. Know that we are now as both as safe and happy as circumstances will let us be. See you in the morning.


	14. All Things Betray Thee, Who Betrayest Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I always knew you were a coldhearted, selfish son of a bitch, but…” I was faltering. “…But you are still part of this family! It doesn’t have to be like this!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to rewrite this part _multiple_ times due to technical issues, but this is for me and one other person so I'm grateful it's finally done. I knew going in that Anders did something terrible so that part wasn't a shock; what pissed me off was that Fenris turned on me so soon after saying he'd finally started to respect me.
> 
> Yes, I'm selfish, merciful and don't like hurting the people I love so Anders lived.

13 Bloomingtide, 9:37 Dragon

Feeling much better today; I have a book on the history of the Anderfells to be read. Ser Pounce was doing his best to wake Anders up this morning— _really_ early this morning—by meowing every two minutes. “Did you train him to do that?” I asked; Mum never liked cats, so Ser Pounce has been my first prolonged exposure to them.

“No,” Anders answered, his face buried in his pillow. “He just sort of…mpff…did that…mm…by himself.”

“Is he hungry?” I asked. “What does he eat?”

“That wet food Colin gave us, remember?”

“Get your face out of the pillow, you lazy bastard.”

“You can’t force me to do anything. Keep that in mind. Irving surely didn’t.”

“I can!”

“Can’t! It’s my choice!”

“Can!” I swiped the pillow off the bed and beat him gently on the head with it. “That’s for nearly getting yourself killed, Blondie! And one more for thinking that I could kill…you…” I faltered.

“You…I…I wouldn’t have…held it against you if you had. Maker knows I deserved it, attacking the Chantry the way I did. I wasn’t expecting to…”

“You know,” I said, falling back on the bunk next to him, “a mad mage gave me a piece of advice once…”

“Never tease a man if the door is open?”

“Well, not that particular piece of advice…though I still remember it all these years later. I have yet to put that into practice.”

“Liar. I seem to remember one or two open doors…”

“Varric’s rubbed off on you; maybe it was better that he didn’t come along…”

“I’m going to miss him; he should have come with us.”

“He likes to vanish mysteriously; it gets him free drinks when he tells stories about it later.”

Anders suddenly looked thoughtful. “So what was the advice?”

“The most powerful, greatest force in the universe is love. The only reason I’m saying shit like that is because a crazy person said it and I didn’t read it in a book anywhere.” It would have been very easy that night, with Kirkwall burning around us and the conflict between mages and templars coming to a head, to slip a knife into his back the way he wanted. He didn’t look at me, so he really looked like…a very tired raven crouched on that box. I had the means; Fenris would’ve happily loaned me his sword for the occasion. Everything fell into place when Anders said there could be no half-measures and the Chantry went up in flames. I was a distraction all those weeks ago while he…did whatever it was he did. Had he only told me, Meredith would’ve been the only casualty that night. Some of the innocent could have been saved. I don’t…really want to discuss it, except to say the sky was a boiling inferno by that point. Purple, pink, blue, orange…

_Come on, Lily, do it! It’s what the First Enchanter wants, he killed the innocent and everyone else would expect me to…but I love him, I love him, I love in spite of this terrible thing he’s done and it would be cruel to just… He should have… Go on, go on, go on…_

How can people just kill for the hell of it outside of battle? Don’t they think about…about the life they’re about to take away? “Go on, love. Get it over with,” he said quietly. “It’ll be easier this way.” I had the knife poised at the back of his neck, just barely grazing his skin. _My friends want him dead, perhaps, but…but…but I love him. Still. Even now._

“I…I…I refuse to listen to anyone but myself!” I screamed, flinging the knife into the dirt. “This is _my_ choice and the only right thing to do! He’s not dying if I have any say in the matter!!”

“Lily…” Varric said carefully.

“No, Varric! I _can’t_ kill you, Anders…because I love you and no one is forcing me to kill you. I know all this…is horrid and unforgivable, of course it is, but I can’t do it and I won’t do it! No one I love is dying today!”

“Be…” Aveline hesitated. “Be reasonable! Sincerity doesn’t justify this!”

“Of course it doesn’t! It never does! But does that mean he should die for it just because the spirit in him took over? You can take your fucking dagger back, Fenris! And I don’t care if any of you object! I really don’t! You’re going to have to kill me first and then him if you really want justice done that badly! We’ve lost enough lives today! The Maker loves us all unconditionally and, quite frankly, Anders Hawke, I love you unconditionally. I love you so you have to live in spite of your mistakes! Help me defend the mages!”

“You mean…” He stood to face me; we were both slightly dazed and I was developing a headache from all the stress. “…Stay with you? I didn’t think you’d let me…”

“Don’t you know me at all? At all?” I asked desperately, kissing him. “I keep my promises, I love you, I…oh, all of you just saw that,” I said, suddenly remembering we weren’t alone.

“So you’d defend him, defend these mages after all they’ve done?” Fenris sneered.

“ _I’m_ a mage, Fenris, and I’m not going to let Meredith send my husband and all of you to the slaughter as long as I’m breathing!”

“…Shit, I’m going to have to edit that story,” Varric muttered. “So they did get married after all…”

“Aveline, do you remember Wesley?” I asked her desperately.

“Of _course_ I do, Lily! How could I--?”

“I will _never_ forget the way you protected him when we escaped Lothering! That’s how much Anders means to me and if _any_ of you disagree, you can go! Join the templars! Fight on the side of a woman who’s clearly mad! I know the fate waiting for me, but I won’t abandon my family or my fellow mages because my conscience won’t stand for it. _None of us_ are going to die!”

“So you would throw yourself at a hopeless cause?” Fenris was letting all his rage loose. “I hope you realize, little Hawke, that you have no chance!” he said, stepping toward me; I backed up instinctively against the crate Anders had just been sitting on.

“You’re damn right I would, Fenris!” I was looking my rival and friend defiantly in the eye. “I always knew you were a cold-hearted, selfish son of a bitch, but…” I was faltering. “…But you are still part of this family! It doesn’t have to be like this!”

“Enough! I’m not defending these mages for you or anyone else!”

I then threw out a phrase I don’t use often. “Go fuck yourself!” Anders was the only thing restraining me from hitting him square in the jaw.

“Happily!”

“I could have loved you once! Maker knows I nearly fell for your…”

“Lily, Lily, stop… He’s…He’s…too hateful and you can’t reason with—”

“I thought… Anders, I thought he was my _friend_.” I buried my face in his shoulder so I wouldn’t have to watch Fenris walk away.

“He may not be…but I am,” Varric said, quietly touching my arm. “I can touch her arm, can’t I, Blondie?”

“Didn’t you hear her?” Anders laughed. “I think that’s her choice.”

“My place is with you,” Aveline chimed in, putting a comforting hand on my arm as well.

“And the Dread Wolf will take me before I abandon any of you,” added Merrill. “You’re my clan now.”

“Look, everybody, this group hug is really sweet, but we’d best get to the Gallows. It’s going to be quite a show!” Varric said ruefully.

“So let’s go kick some templar arse!” I said, tearing myself away from Anders but he…held me back as Aveline and Merrill went running toward the flames and combat. Varric, his curiosity apparently piqued, lingered as well.

“You know, Lily, you and Blondie may not win this fight.”

“I just remembered something! Thank you, Varric!”

“Uh, Blondie, the war is… Sweet Maker, not in front of me!” I heard Varric exclaim as Anders kissed me with all the fire he had in him, probably. I’m just guessing. Yes, I burned when he pulled away; I’m certain my stomach had dropped to my feet.

“…Sorry,” he panted, blushing. “I didn’t…know when I’d be able to do that again.” I…returned his kiss as fiercely as I knew how, honestly.

“Me either.” Varric, I noticed when I finally opened my eyes, had the good sense to turn his back.

“Are you two _done_ , Hawke? There’s a war going on!”

“Varric, I’m surprised at you!” I exclaimed, pretending to scold. “That would make an excellent story!” I broke into a run.

“Personally, I liked my version a little bit better.”

“Do I _want_ to know?” I heard Anders sigh from behind me.

“Well, in mine there was none of this war bullshit and she just jumped you.”

“…I’m going to kill you if we live through this, Varric.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Blondie.”

It’s a comfort to know that at least some things don’t change in the middle of a rebellion. Very sleepy now, will continue tomorrow; Anders will rebel if I don’t go to bed…but he’s cute when he does, so it might be worth it to defy him.


	15. There's A Ghost In My Lungs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Half of his face was gone when I could bear to look. “I hope you _burn_ and I hope to the Maker that it hurts you as much as it destroyed me, you bastard!!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I really rushed this... I'm frustrated by how short Dragon Age II felt compared to Dragon Age: Origins.
> 
> Thank you for staying. This...uh...novel thing was for you. Again. Well, this is just for me, but it's uploaded here just for you like all my video game journals will be, character customization provided.
> 
> By the way, Anders! Stop trying to be romantic with your wife in the middle of my plot! I don't write romances!

14 Bloomingtide, 9:37 Dragon

…I had a nightmare. Oh, Maker, it was scary, I had to kill them both, Fenris and Anders. _You’ll have to pay for this, Anders…_ It slipped so easily into his—the sound he made—just a sighing sort of resignation. I swear, I thought it was happening and the blood trickling on my fingers in the dream turned out to be Pounce shifting his position on Anders’s stomach in reality. (We slept on the floor last night.) I couldn’t help it; I was so terrified that I started sobbing in spurts. “Anders, Anders, help…help me, love. The terror…”

“Maker, it’s finally hit you, hasn’t it? _Move_ , cat!” There was a disgruntled meow and Pounce leaped away from us, although I couldn’t really see because the cabin was dark. Anders used magic to light our one pathetic candle and started rummaging around for a poultice. “Hold on for me, love, just hold on…”

“Don’t leave! Everyone leaves, Anders! Y-Y-You’ll go too, just like Fenris and Isabela! Fenris said I was capable and I roused his wrath and everything is my fault in the end and if you go, I…I…I…” I gripped his free hand in the dark. “I…”

“Lily, Lily, breathe, love, breathe.” He’d come back to me and wrapped my favorite blanket from The Eyrie around me.

“You’re going to freeze…” I pleaded.

“I’ll manage. Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, wiping my eyes with his fingers.

“A…A little. I didn’t _want_ to kill him, you know. What I wanted, years ago, was for…for him to love me. He said things to me that no one ever said before in my life… ‘You’re a beautiful woman, Hawke. You’re capable, Hawke.’ His voice… I thought he had a heart of his own somewhere inside that battered body of his, but…but he was so cold to me! He shut me out!”

“Fenris was twisted by his hatred of us and there was no changing him,” Anders said, his breath on my hair.

“But I gave him chances! That night, I…I honestly thought he’d come back to us when we ran into him at the Gallows, but…”

“Shh, don’t think about this… He can’t hurt you any…roll over…anymore… You of all people deserve to be happy and that’s my one goal at the moment.”

“I know.”

“So…you deserve to be driven mad yourself.”

“Just kiss me already, Anders! Five, four…” I was half-kidding, but his mouth was already on mine; his impatience always…always makes me burn up. “What about Ser Pounce?”

“He’s seen much worse in Amaranthine, I’m sure. You worry too much, Lily.” He began to kiss my back with deliberate slowness and I swear my nerves were on fire; I…I…I…I…couldn’t contain my moaning either. Lightning… It was like lightning, like Tempest in my veins, in my arms, in my legs…

“I _do_ worry…I do…I… _Maker_ , Anders! I do want to talk about all this, you—” The noise I made then was involuntary. “You’re wonderful, do you know how wonderful you…?”

“Shh, the whole ship will know too if you don’t quiet down!” His hand was on my mouth and I sucked on his fingers. (Varric’s not reading this journal; I can be as explicit as I want, so there.) “Go on, Hawke, go on, kill me, kill me, kill me…”

“I’d rather spare you so you can show me your gratitude…” He was…kissing me very intensely; I think I felt his tongue on my neck and then he moved lower… “Yes, this is the best way to do that, but I would love to lock you up too—Your hands, your hands, you have beautiful hands! Don’t move them! Don’t! Was…” I cried out and caught my breath. “Was this part of your plan?”

“Perhaps,” he said slyly. “Now I need my chains broken because First Enchanter Irving’s got me in solitary again…”

“Give me your wrists and I’ll get you out of here.” When we were finally happy and sated, I got serious again. “You were right—at the proper time…steering a ship can be nice.”

He ran his index finger down my face. “Isabela would be so proud of you right now.”

I sat up, taken with a sudden idea. “Could she have come back to Ferelden, too? We could go find—”

Anders rolled over onto his stomach; Pounce leaped onto his back and decided to curl up there. “There’s only so many liars we can trust, Lily. Surely you must realize that after what Fenris did to us.”

By the time we did catch up with Fenris the night of the rebellion, he was no longer the man I might have loved six years ago. “Look at them,” he spit at me. “Backed into a corner and they show their true colors!” We were in the Gallows courtyard, everything covered in eerie moonlight. “Why you’re defending the mages, Lily, I will never know.”

“Because it’s the right thing to do. We’re not the enemy, Fenris; we’re your family. I might have loved you once and even though you’ve proven yourself to be a backstabbing, hateful—” I bruised his forehead with my staff. “—Son of a bitch, you’re still my companion and friend. It doesn’t have to be this way! Come back to us!”

“No, mages keep us as pets in the Imperium. If you think I’m going to stand for that here, think again! One of us will die, you or me!”

“Not if I have any say in the matter!” Anders snarled; I saw the ice building in his fingers and my husband struck the first blow of the conflict. The rest of us instantly joined the fray, but I was running on broken hopes and memories. _If I had known he was sending such a capable and beautiful woman after me--_

_Anders, we can never predict the outcome of our actions. We can only make them with a true heart._

_Kind, wise **and** beautiful—you must have made a deal with some demons yourself…_ I could feel the building, burning heat in my fingers now.

_It’s taken me a long time and we don’t agree on much, but…I’ve finally developed some respect for you, Lily… A last toast to the fallen!_

_Liar, liar, liar, liar, fire, fire, fire, fi--_

“Firestorm,” I panted as the heat flew from my hands, seared my cheeks and went for Fenris. I saw his skin melting from his face and felt no regret, only icy, distant hatred. Half of his face was gone when I could bear to look. “I hope you _burn_ and I hope to the Maker that it hurts you as much as it destroyed me, you bastard!!” He…He started shrieking in pain, but I wasn’t going to falter now; it was one long wailing howl that came out of his mouth…and then I saw him crumple to the ground, his sword as black as his corpse.

That was all I can bear to remember of that final stand against Meredith. She died too soon enough, as did Orisino, corrupted by blood magic. Even Anders can’t bear a blood mage and neither can I, but…but there was a little light earlier in the evening. I was by myself in the courtyard when Anders came to see me. “I should have trusted you,” he said gently. “Why did you…?”

“I can’t break the person I love most in the world, I believe in redemption and…I’m a selfish coward.”

“Nothing wrong with being selfish. Speaking of which, seeing as Kirkwall won’t offer me mercy, would you…run away with me? I’d rather be on the run with you than safe with anyone else.”

“Do you have to ask your wife a trick question like that? If we live, let’s go be fugitives together! Sounds like fun!”

“…Where are you going? There’s a war on, you know!”

“I promised you handcuffs and I’m going to go nick them while I have the chance! I keep my promises to my lord!”

…Life is so much brighter in spite of all the destruction behind us, but that’s a normal day for my Anders and I. I think life with him will be beautiful…

~

“It was Meredith,” Cassandra breathed, running on little sleep after interrogating Varric. “She provoked the Circle and was to blame for everything. Why does Lily’s journal stop before the rebellion, however?”

“Seeker, _her husband blew up the Chantry_. I was there. She was kind of stressed at the time. Like I said, we all vanished when your Commander Cullen let her and Anders leave peacefully. We weren’t going to sit on our asses until the war came to us.”

“So Lily defeated Meredith and just…vanished with Anders? Into thin air? You were her best friend and you said you knew them both; why didn’t she tell you where she was going?”

“Anders and her were gone the day after Meredith was killed; it was a rushed thing and I didn’t even get to see them off…”

“So they fled by sea.”

“Or into the hills; Kirkwall’s got a lot of those. I don’t know where she and her husband are now.”

“Well, are Lily and Anders dead?”

“Knowing them? I doubt that very much.”

Cassandra sighed. “You can go. May the Maker watch over you in these dark days ahead.”

“Same to you, Seeker, same to you.” _Hey, Blondie, they didn’t suspect a damn thing! I just hope you two know what you’re doing…_


End file.
